The Definitely Wrong Number
by BlaineWarbler
Summary: On the very long list of things you should not do with your boyfriend's father: accidentally sext him.


_hey baby i miss u lot i hope ur having fun tonight._

Burt heard his phone buzz, alerting him to a new something-or-other. Kurt had been telling him to get an iPhone for years, but it was only after Kurt went away and took that fashion internship in New York that Burt finally caved. His son had told him that it would be much easier to keep in touch and communicate.

It had been difficult for Burt to let go, to say goodbye. It had only been him and Kurt for the longest time, before Carole and Finn entered the picture. Burt smiled thinking of Finn, the son he loved just as much as the one he brought into this world and raised for eighteen years. Finn was still here, working in the shop.

But Kurt was off on his Great New York Adventure, and the past couple of months had not been the same without Kurt to chide him about his eating habits or worry over him exerting himself at the shop.

But, to be honest, now that he had put the politics aside, and now that Finn was there full-time, managing the shop was no problem. Nights Carole was out with her girls or Finn out with the guys, he stayed at the shop and worked and worked.

He could have gone out with _his_ friends, but it always turned into him talking about Kurt, how proud he was that Kurt had got out of Lima. He would brag to his friends about how smart and determined his kid was, that even after not getting into the college of his choice he still fought for what he wanted and went where he knew he had to be. And then, by the end of the night, he would be lamenting about how boring life was without Kurt around.

It _was_ boring, really. Boring because the only guy who really made life truly interesting wasn't there.

So when his phone buzzed, Burt had no idea if it meant an incoming phone call or a message or a text, but he pulled himself away from the car he was working on. He could not get to the phone fast enough.

But what he saw confused him. It had to be a wrong number.

And it was one of those text messages—great. Not only were his fingers covered in grease _(always clean your hands before you use the phone, dad, you could damage it otherwise_, Kurt's voice rang out in his head), but he was terribly slow at texting.

He could just ignore it—of course he could. But then another text buzzed as he stared at the phone and rubbed his hands off on a small square of clean fabric.

_you dont evn kno_

_you drive me crazy_

_im just sitting here thinking about ur lips on my cock_

"Aaannnd that's just a little too intense for me," Burt said aloud, laughing. He was almost finished cleaning off his hands. He didn't want to damage the phone Kurt so carefully picked out and used often to talk to him. But he _had_ to put this guy out of his misery, steer him in the right direction.

_i wish you weren't so beautiful! i can't get you out of my head_

_like im supposed to be doing homework_

_but i cant stop thinking about it…_

"Puppy love. Cute." But Burt didn't want to think about it too much as he finished drying his hands. It was good enough. He could type out a response without messing up the phone. Kids would be kids and love is love, Burt reminded himself. But he _really_ did not need to be thinking about someone still young enough to be doing homework being sexually active. Even if they were college-aged, and _especially_ if they were younger—kids can get into some serious trouble. Burt remembered Finn telling him about the drama with Quinn and Puck his sophomore year. "Wait till your 30," he advised over the phone. He certainly didn't, but over the years age and "those parenting feelings" just seemed to outweigh the desire to let teenagers take full reign over their own lives.

_Cool it, loverboy_

it was all Burt could say at the moment. He just needed the guy to hold up long enough to not embarrass himself further when Burt told him he had the wrong number. It would take forever to type out but Burt wasn't about to call the guy. The _kid_, whoever it was. Jesus. Talk about embarrassing.

To his dismay, this did nothing to stop the influx of texts that were streaming in.

_No way! Never! ;)_

_stop playing hard to get. Im lonely and its your fault ;)_

Oh god, the kid thought he was flirting. Jesus. How in the hell do you stop these kids, anyway? "I - think - you - have - the - w…" Burt was frantically typing out. This was getting ridiculous. Maybe he could just ignore the texts, let the guy figure it out on his own. But he knew he couldn't let him go on like this.

_you need to text me back_

_i could cum like this and i really need to or else im not going to get anything done tonight_

_im rock hard, kurt_

At that, Burt's heart nearly seized up in shock and the phone tumbled out of his hands. For a half-second Burt was overcome with the fear that he had broken the phone before he realized it had just fallen on the table and not the floor. No real damage evident, despite the lack of case Kurt told him repeatedly to get.

The phone buzzed again.

That. damn. text.

Was it really…?

Burt carefully picked up the phone, pissed that in his fumble his half-finished message was sent, a reply already shot back.

_I think you have the _

was all Burt's message contained. Damn it. Must have backspaced or something. Dumb phones.

_what? what do I have? ;)_

_are you distracted baby?_

NOPE! Time to put an end to it. Time to stop it and never speak of this to anyone. Ever. The messages continued to pour in. How the hell did kids do this so fast? He could barely type a word before this kid wrote a whole sentence. "You don't wanna be doing this kid…" Burt reprimanded the phone.

_god kurt, i think YOU have the nicest lips_

_so fucking hot_

_i'm close. i cant believe how much i can type with one hand_

"Me either," Burt said, feeling a little sick as he sent off another message

_NOT KURT_

But it didn't seem to do very much.

_fuck_

The message didn't strike Burt as the negative kind of exclamation. Burt pinched the bridge of his nose and huffed out a discontented breath. He couldn't believe this was happening. With his son's boyfriend. Burt would have much preferred the wrong number.

_im good now ;)_

"Great. So happy to hear it," Burt grumbled miserably at the phone.

Was this why Kurt's phone bill was so high? No, just don't think about it, his mind said. Just don't ever think about it. Wipe it from your mind.

_wait_

"Oh _now_ you wanna wait," Burt sighed, slightly annoyed.

_Kurt?_

_shit_

_this isn't kurt is it?_

Burt didn't think an answer was really necessary.

_Burt?_

_I am so sorry_

_I am so so SO SORRY_

"That makes two of us."

_call me. Can't text_

But Blaine seemed to understand the message, and not two seconds later, his phone was buzzing with an incoming call. Burt answered.

He could hear breathing on the other end, but no one spoke.

"It's okay, kid," Burt said flatly. In truth, he was kind of torn between being mad, being embarrassed, and being very, very amused. It annoyed him that he couldn't seem to settle on the right emotion for the very awkward and unprecedented situation. No one ever put _this_ in the parenting handbook.

"Don't tell Kurt," Blaine moaned. Yep. He was embarrassed.

"Now why would I make things even more weird than they already are? I think we can just stop the crazy train here."

"I am so, so embarrassed…" he said softly, but there was something else off in his voice.

"Blaine, you been drinking?"

"J-just with my parents. I swear. There was a dinner party—I took some wine up to my room…"

"Your parents know you've been drinking?"

"…Please, Burt. They offered at dinner. But I took the rest upstairs…it just helps me unwind. It's hard just being here all the time."

"And how in the hell did you end up texting me?" The question came out angry, though Burt intended it to be more curious.

"…I'm so sorry…Kurt texted me earlier, said he was going out with friends. I got…depressed. Just, everyone's gone—the upperclassmen, Warblers I'd known, Mike's off at college, Cooper's in L.A. and Kurt's in New York…" Burt waited and listened through Blaine's drunken rambling. He was starting to feel something twist inside his heart. "And I thought," Blaine said, a hint of a bitter, ironic laugh settling over the "thought," "that I _was_ texting Kurt. But I must have misread—your names—I'm so sorry, Burt."

"It's okay, Kiddo," Burt sighed. "I mean, I wish I hadn't been witness to…all that…but I'm more than willing to just erase it from the history books and pretend it never happened. Ever."

"I just feel so lonely all the time," Blaine blurted out.

It was one of those things that a person wouldn't say if they weren't completely inebriated. Burt knew Blaine would never admit to having those kinds of feelings. Not to Kurt, never wanting to make Kurt feel sad or guilty about having left Lima. Through he was more honest about his feelings now (after the fiasco of not telling Kurt what was up his senior year and nearly breaking up over it), Burt figured Blaine thought he could handle it on his own. Hide the pain.

Kind of like he was doing now. 8pm and still in the shop. Trying to carry on as if nothing had changed. As if the world wasn't completely different now.

Burt didn't usually think too hard about how Kurt's absence had affected Blaine. He knew Kurt talked to Blaine—used that Skype-thing that Kurt had tried to show his father how to use, unsuccessfully—way more often than he had talked to Burt. He couldn't feel too bad for the kid. And apparently they were always texting like this—Jesus, don't think about that, Burt's mind reminded.

But they shared that same pain. They were more alike than either of them knew.

"I'm sorry," Blaine said. "I'm still a bit tipsy. I apologize. I should probably get off. The phone! Get off the phone. I mean—hang up. Shut off the phone…I should…probably just stop talking."

"That's probably best," Burt concurred. But he sighed again. "Blaine, why didn't you tell me you were missing Kurt so bad?"

"Uhhh…" Blaine blanked.

"Not in a sexual way!" Burt said, perhaps a bit too loudly. "I mean—whenever Finn invites you over for game night, you say you can't come by. We're always around, even if Kurt isn't. If you're ever feeling down, you should just come by."

Blaine muttered something then under his breath, something like "…don't wanna impose…family time…"

"What? What's this nonsense?" Burt said, almost laughing. "You don't like hanging around with us or something?"

"No!" Blaine said, shocked. "I mean, absolutely, I love you guys. That's not the case at all. I just…thought it would be too weird. Without Kurt there…"

"You always came by to watch the game before, when Kurt had Rachel over and was giving her makeovers or whatever."

"That was different…I…I can't just come by…"

"I don't see why not!" Burt said, almost laughing from how exasperating the boy was.

"…Mr. Hummel…"

"Excuse me, have we just met or something?"

There was silence on the other line, but Burt hadn't really expected Blaine to say anything else.

"Look kid, I don't pretend to know what kind of craziness goes on in that head of yours, but you are always welcome in my home. In fact, you are always _invited_ to come over whenever you want. My home is your home. You made it your home when you decided to love my boy."

When there was more silence and just the faintest sounds of muffled sniffling and breathing, Burt continued.

"You're like a son to me, Blaine. Just like Finn. Just like_ Kurt_. You're part of the family. No matter what happens, unless you hurt my boy in any way," it always had to be thrown in. You can't remove the over-protective father from Burt Hummel, "…you always _will_ be."

Blaine didn't say anything else. Burt believed he wasn't able to say anything else.

"Now listen. I know I said you can always come over whenever you want, but tonight I want you to just stay put and do your homework. You're obviously not getting into a car in the state you're in."

"No, sir," Blaine said, his voice unsteady.

"Good…good," Burt nodded. After a minute he could almost feel Blaine starting to smile on the other line.

"I'm sorry, again, for the inappropriate texts."

"Hey, as long as you two are happy and being safe, and as long as you can promise me _I won't ever have to hear that again_, it's fine with me."

"It's a promise," and there was a slight note of amusement in the boy's voice.

"And stop drinking. That's enough for tonight."

"Will do. It's been nothing but trouble."

"And, Blaine?"

"Yes?"

"Remember that we love you, okay kid? Always."

After a lengthy pause, he could hear the boy on the other end take in a shaky breath. "Goodnight, Burt."

"Goodnight, Blaine."


End file.
